


The Titan's Forest

by steampunk



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Army, Coffee Shop, Crime, M/M, Military, Murder, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steampunk/pseuds/steampunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aged 14, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin flee to England after Eren is framed for the murder of 5 in Germany. Six years later he's working comfortably in his coffee shop left to him by a close friend when one of his regular customers starts bringing in trouble. Unfortunately, Eren who has been hotly curious about the short, stoic man visiting every night is pulled into dangerous business, and his past life threats to poison the peace he has worked so hard to create.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Need a Minute

Eren wiped off the sweat from his brow, smearing a dirty brown streak across his slightly tan forehead which was matted with damp strands of hair. His arms ached dully from the repetitive movement of grinding coffee beans in the large mortar, and his hands were blistered by the stone pestle. Looking up, his green eyes searching the skies, scouring them for stars admist the fog. It was still dark outside, a starless and misty early morning, and the sun had yet to rise.  Under the artificial glow of the garden lights, Eren shifted his position in attempt to keep off a cramp. He adjusted his legs shoulder width apart and grasped the pestle sturdily, ready for another hour or so of grinding. The bottom of it was worn from decades of work, consequently, its rounded surface worked at its best, crushing the roasted beans into a finer grind consistency, just a few hours off powder. The daily routine he had worked to for the past 6 years provided a sense of peace for Eren; his body moved in cycles, whilst his mind wondered, lost in his own troubled world until the first streaks of the sunlight beamed over the horizon and lit up the sky. Eren squinted, blinking rapidly out of his daydream, and grunted.

“Mikasa!” he shouted up to the first floor window, his voice rough. “Mikasa, you’ll be late for University if you sleep in any longer!” It had been Eren’s job to wake up his adoptive sister since she started University, in other words she spent more time studying than sleeping, only to pass out hours before her wake up call. He listened for a loud groan and waited for her to throw open the window to shout at him, however when several seconds passed with no reply, he sighed deeply and dusted off his overalls into dry clouds of coffee, trying not to cough then headed inside. Passing through the kitchen area of the shop, he hurried towards the stairs, brushing through beaded curtains. His socks left small brown stains on the cream carpet trailing up the stairs. The first room opposite the stairs (next to rickety balcony) was Mikasa’s. Eren flexed his fingers and balled a fist, rapping his knuckles against the wooden door three times.

“I’m coming in,” he announced when there was, once again, no reply, and pulled down on the shining brass handle. Inside, first he spotted a lump on the bed, desperately clutching on the ends of green duvet covers. Slowly taking steps forwards, Eren noticed various books and papers scattered on the floor, Mikasa’s cursive scrawled over them. Before approaching sleeping beauty, he worked his way around the room, picking up the papers in order of date, when he came across a pile of unfinished assignments. Confusion and worry flickered over Eren’s mind. Mikasa would never leave something unfinished.  

Dumping the sheets carelessly on her desk, and shuffling the textbooks that defended Mikasa’s bed aside, Eren tugged at the covers.

“Oi, Mikasa, get up. It’s just past half five. You’ve got classes at eight, and your train is in an hour.” He said, raising his voice slightly. Mikasa groaned from underneath, forcefully tearing the duvet away from Eren and swiftly turned to face the wall. “I’m being serious.” Eren repeated, “Get up.”

“Dammit it Eren, leave me alone,” Mikasa finally muttered irritably. Her voice was thick and groggy. A damp patch on her pillow sent alarm bells ringing. Sleeping in this late, unfinished work, and she even sounded sick.

Eren reached over and yanked the covers off to reveal a sweating form curled up in a ball. Hastily rolling her over, he placed his palm over her forehead and gasped quietly.

“You’re burning up,” he said, pressing the back of his hand into her neck to be sure. Her skin burned his.

“I’m fine,” Mikasa mumbled, sitting up on her elbows. Her face glistened with a sheen of sweat. “Just get me a glass of cold water.” She squinted at the streak of light cutting through her room

“Right, right,”

“And Eren?”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe some painkillers too. It feels like someone is grinding my head in the mortar.”

“Just… stay there,” Eren said uncertainly, quickly rushing down the stairs. This was the last thing he needed to deal with when the coffee shop needed to be open in 20 minutes. He was sure Mikasa had come down with a fever, but he didn’t have time to nurse her back to health all morning. He sighed for the second time that morning.

The kitchen in which Eren hurried around frantically in was fitted with coffee machines and work benches on both sides of what would be a very large hallway. The floor was tiled over in white, cold even against Eren’s socked feet, and the raw brick walls could hardly be seen over the various paintings and frames. Pulling open numerous drawers and cupboards, Eren collected a small basin, flannel, and a bottle of water from the fridge with some medication for Mikasa, then sprinted back upstairs to the bathroom. He filled the basin with cold water, letting the flannel soak in it until he was seated beside her, resting the basin on the floor with the flannel draped over the side.

“Mikasa,” Eren called, opening the bottle and cracking through the foil of the painkillers. He popped two out and curled his palm around them before helping Mikasa lean against the headboard, the covers wrapped around her tightly.

“I’m don’t want to get out of bed,” Mikasa said deadpanned. Eren pursed his lips, a crease of worry marking his complexion.

“Alright, fine.” He pushed the two pills past Mikasa’s chapped lips then tipped the bottle against them, pouring the water down her throat. She glugged visibly, clearly thirstier that she made out. The bottle was compressed in less than a half a minute.

“I’ll get you a change of clothes, then you should take a shower before changing.” Eren instructed, rummaging around her cupboard. He picked out pair of sweats and a large t-shirt which would sit loosely on her muscular frame. “The meds should kick in around half an hour so don’t get in the shower until they do. We can’t rush you to the hospital at this time, nor are you in any condition to be outside.”

Mikasa groaned. Hearing Eren telling her what to do was not on the top of her list for that morning, hell, for any morning. Eren watched her eye her room, the pile of unfinished papers drawing her attention.

“You’re damn sick,” Eren said, getting vexed. “Don’t you even think about struggling to school, you hear?”

“I was up all night working on those…”

“Then this serves you right. You should take more care of your body. Working out isn’t the only way to keep healthy you know?”

“Look at you,” Mikasa huffed, “Since when did you start bossing me around.”

“Not to point, but it’s your mummy-ing me that probably rubbed off,” Eren crackled a smile. “Look, I got to get the shop open so just do what I say and I’ll check up on you once the guys come in. I did ask Ymir and Christa to come in earlier today to help set up the Christmas decorations anyway.”

“Right,” Mikasa nodded, slipping under the cover. “I heard you, ‘kay? Just get me a decaf or something later.”

Eren agreed, placing the cold flannel on her forehead.

“Change this when it goes warm, it’ll help keep you cool.”

“Yes mother,” Mikasa croaked as Eren walked towards his own room.

* * *

 

Eren’s room was to the same layout as Mikasa’s. His double bed filled up half his room, wall to wall. On one side, his desk, a mess of paper, books, dirty mugs and old food. Opposite, his cupboard was bursting with a mixture of junk that had accumulated over the years and clothes he hardly wore. Despite the obvious contrast between his room and Mikasa’s, Eren gingerly stepped around bottles of fizzy drinks, dirty laundry and half painted canvases he knew should belong upstairs in their makeshift studio without battering an eyelid.

Eren dumped his overalls in the vague direction of his laundry hamper and collapsed on the bed. His body was worn out after the hours of roasting and grinding he’d done outside in the cold, in preparation for the upcoming week. Still, his eyes cast over the clock, effectively restarting his system. It was almost 6, and he was still a mess. A rough cough rattled his chest as he struggled to keep the noise down to a minimum. He really should get ready, he really should- Eren’s eyes drifted closed momentarily. He shouldn’t have woken up so early or overworked his body, he chastised himself. He’d prepared more coffee than he had done all month, but with the sudden drop in temperatures, the shop was busier than most weeks and so keeping up quota was becoming a struggle. As much as he welcomed the steady surge of customers, a day off would probably do him some good too.

By the time Eren made himself representable for the day (as much as he could in a mere few minutes), he hectically rushed down the stairs, flying past the beaded curtain into the kitchen to be greeted by a pleasant sight.

“I love you all so fucking much,” Eren grinned, looking over the kitchen area. Ymir- tall, brown and freckled, hovered over Christa- short, pale and blonde; the pair of them working the machines with ease. Annie, short, blonde, and the complete opposite to Christa’s angelic personality, was collecting a tray of assorted mugs and paper cups together, looking mildly irritated.

“You’re late, Eren,” Annie said flatly.

“Sorry, Mikasa came down with a fever.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously. Despite being the owner, he didn’t want to mess with Annie on her bad days, which was every day. When Annie shuffled past Eren, sharply bumping their shoulders together, he tensed.

“I’ll check up on her whilst you man the till,” she said, balancing the tray of one hand, the other straightening out her uniform. “Bert and Reiner are already serving customers so don’t panic too much.”

“Thanks,” Eren replied, sincerely, heading for the door.

“Careful, it’s packed,” Annie stated, following Eren out the door.

Eren couldn’t agree less. The coffee shop was bustling, a queue already forming in the few minutes it had been open. Most of the tables were filled with businesspeople and their overly dramatic newspapers. Gliding around the room, Bert and Reiner efficiently catered to people’s needs. The jackets of their uniform fluttering behind them at their speed, yet their agility and stamina for the job never ceased to amaze Eren.

It wasn’t a small shop, much to most surprise. The shop itself looked like a stereotypical cosy coffee shop you’d see on the TV, complete with a giant window on one side, the door on the other, under a handmade sign that claimed ‘The Titan’s Forest’. A nifty little bell rang every time the door opened (driving Eren crazy during rush hour), and the canopy kept the rain and snow off the doormat. The last owner had the sense to make it waterproof and installed gutters to divert the water away from the sides. Working through the crowds, Eren jammed a doorstop into the door and hurried back to the counter. The first few customers were quickly growing inpatient.

“Sorry for the wait,” Eren apologized earnestly, bowing his head, “What would you like to order?”

And so the morning went on. 


	2. Cover up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren is working on his fatigue but he also has to deal with another few hours of Levi before he can wrap up.

By the time night fell it was only 5pm and Eren was starting to regret opening up the shop at all that day. Abandoned by his titan trio, he lacked the strengths to keep up with orders, and even Ymir was starting to slack off, and motivated only by Christa’s sharp jabs in the gut. As the clock ticked on, Eren tried his damnest to deal with the similarly irritated customers until eight when his saviour walked in.

“Hey, Eren,” Armin called out, unzipping his coat. Eren took in Armin’s ruffled blond hair and stained cheek from the light storm outside.

“Armin!” Eren exclaimed, handing back change simultaneously to a miffed old man. “Thank god you’re here. I’ve been worked to the bone.”

“It’ll calm down,” Armin reassured Eren, “The night is creeping in, so no one really wants to be around these parts then.”

“I hope so, I mean, as much as I appreciate the extra cash, I don’t think my health is up to it,” Eren confessed, rubbing the back on his head guiltily. Armin looked over to his friend, worried.

“Is it that cough again?” He asked, folding up his coat and placing it under the counter. Eren shuffled over and let his friend take over, greeting the customers with his usual smile and enticing blue eyes. Eren couldn’t even blame the few young guys who blushed when Armin went all out; after all, he was neck and neck with Christa, and that’s saying something for a 20 year old guy.

“Cough, chest pains, headaches. You name them,” Eren sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. The door opened every few seconds with Ymir passing orders or Christa pushing her through to do so.

“You should really get it checked out,” Armin said, concerned. “In this weather, it could amount to something even worse.”

Eren grunted, dismissing Armin’s warning.

“I’m serious, Eren.” His ocean eyes cast over Eren’s, scolding him. “Who’s going to look after the shop if you’ve gone under with who knows what. Didn’t you promise Hannes, you’d care for this shop as it was your own pride and joy?”

Eren couldn’t argue with Armin’s clear logical thinking, but the idea of going into a hospital made his stomach churn. People prodding him, the needles, the machines beeping irritably, the sounds of pain and desperation, and those bright unforgiving lights enhancing the smell of false cleanliness and anaesthetic. It was nauseating. A shiver ran through his spine, and his feet grew cold. He didn’t want to deal with that now.

“I’m going to check up on Mikasa,” Eren sighed, peeling away from the wall. “I’ll be down in a second, though. You’re probably tired, so it’ll be fine is you take care of her. Plus, I’m pretty sure she’s sick of seeing my face by now,” he chuckled to himself. He nodded to Armin, thanking Ymir and Christa for staying late, then hurried upstairs with a decaf Ymir had set aside.

Mikasa’s door was ajar, light cutting through the darkness of the hallway. Eren flicked the lights on, and was caught off guard by a soft breeze. Turning to his right he saw that the balcony door was pushed to the side a fraction, a shadowy figure resting against the rail. One hand supported her chin, the other clutching a black scarf coiled around her neck. Grinning, Eren stepped inside, gripping the mug closer to his chest, and stepped behind her. Brushing his hand under her short black hair, he blew on the nape of her neck, waiting for a reaction.

“I’m not that stupid Eren,” Mikasa mumbled, spinning around and lifting her mug out of Eren’s hands fluidly. “I’ve lived with you for over ten years, so please don’t underestimate my ability to recognise your presence simply by your uneven breathing.” Settling the mug on the rail, she beat her fists against his back three times then thumped his chest twice. Eren burst into a coughing fit and spat out a ball of phlegm over the balcony rail, narrowly missing Mikasa’s mug. She hissed, snatching it out of Eren’s firing range.

“Dammit it, I was looking forward to that,” she said, tipping the mug’s contents over the balcony too.

“Sorry,” Eren replied, his voice coarse. “I’ll get Armin to send up another one. Tell him there’s a change of clothes somewhere in my room if he needs to.”

“You should take a break!” Mikasa called out as Eren thundered back down the stairs, leaving the balcony door open, the moonlight mixing with the artificially yellow light from Mikasa’s room, giving the hallway a strange illumination.

True to his word, Eren took over the counter, sending Armin upstairs to force Mikasa back to bed and work on his own assignments. Armin lived alone in a small apartment a little far from his University, and with his only family being his grandfather, who was in a care home, Armin preferred Eren’s place to the desolate flat.

The three of them had been friends for many years, but Eren and Armin were friends from birth. Their mothers attended the same baby groups, and with an odd pairing of weak and strong in different areas, their bond was unyielding. Eren relied on Armin, just as much as Armin relied on Eren. And when Mikasa came to join the pair those 10 years ago in Germany, part of an early years exchange program, she became a rock the two leaned on most. Her mothering, and subtle over protective nature was much like a substitute for the orphaned boys.

Eren lulled over this as the night drew on, hardly noticing as the customers dwindled down, weeding them out until his regulars claimed their seats. When his watch beeped past 8, he bid goodbye to Ymir and Christa.

“Thanks for tonight,” Eren thanked them, “I wouldn’t have made it through without you.”

“I’m expecting extra pay for coming in and staying so late,” Ymir reminded him, casting her eyes down to meet his. Even at his 170cm, Ymir had a good 2cm on him, and never failed to remind him. It was the same with Bert and Reiner (though they had over 15cm or so). Why he hired so many giants, Eren did not know, but they seemed so bring in enough customers, not to mention keep out the bad ones. He’d been harassed several times before, but they dealt with in in such an alien way; intimidation overpowering violence. That said, Annie had the same principle and she was half their height. Eren shuddered.

“Ymir, stop being an ass,” Christa scolded, pulling her out of the shop, Ymir gave in, grumbling. The pair left, hand in hand. Though Eren refrained from prying into people’s personal lives, he could tell they had a very stable, and happy relationship. He felt a sense of pride, like a mother watching her children. Eren shuddered again (such an absurd thought made him feel slightly queasy); he really needed to hit the hay.

“Oi, brat,” came a sudden voice, “Are you going to stand there grinning all day or get me something to drink?”

Eren stiffened at the voice, suddenly acutely aware of his t-shirt, sweat drenched and clinging onto his physique, his hair was a ruffled mess, and he was sure his breath stank of tuna. He was a tip and the last person he wanted to deal with in this state was that old man. That clean freak, pretentious, sarcasm-ridden old man.

A soft groan sludged out of his mouth as he returned to the counter and plastered on a deliberate fake smile, one Eren especially reserved for him. His mood was instantly brought down a few notched with a sense of nervousness and instability that first came whenever Eren was around this man.

“Right,” he muttered, sliding towards the man, brain already mulling over what concoction he could create for him tonight. Eren opening the cupboard under the counter and pulled out a mug that had that man’s name written all over it, or rather simply, a set of black and white wings printed delicately on ceramic. However, due to this particular aesthetic, Eren’s top favourite customer refused to drink out of any other instrument. It annoyed Eren to no ends; the man demanded that Eren wash it, sterilize it, air dry it, and make sure it doesn’t collect any dust before he drank from it again. It was tiresome on many levels; regardless, Eren peeled away the fine layer cellophane covering the mug, before swirling a quick shot of water around.

“What can I get the Corporal, today?” Eren asked, a grin working its way through as he felt himself relax, his body doing what it has done best for the last eight years: making coffee; he splashed the ‘dirty’ water into the sink – small water droplets landing on his face. Eren wiped it away with a coffee stained hand, smearing s small patch on brown onto his cheek. The man flinched.

“Wipe that fucking dirt off your face,” he said, eyebrow twitching. “I can’t believe you think it’s hygienic to work in such filthy conditions. Hell, I can’t believe I still come here.”

“Hey, it’s only coffee,” Eren defended, “Don’t get your panties in a twist,”

“Tch.”

Eren laughed, and did as the man said. Sometimes he wondered who really owned this shop, if it wasn’t Annie, Ymir or Mikasa bossing him around, it was this man.

“Just get me something to drink, brat.” The man said, as he opened up his laptop and plugged in the charger. It looked very expensive, various features glowing futuristically, and its sleek, lightweight build was something Eren envied over the bulky contraption he worked on. It wasn’t the only thing the man kept in subtle glimpses of wealth. Eren wondered why such a man would waste night after night at a small coffee shop such as his.

“Yes sir,” Eren gimmicked, pushing his thoughts aside he saluted weakly and sauntered into the back, the grin refusing to leave. As soon as he was behind the door a frenzy seized him; he raced upstairs, tore off his t-shirt, and wiped down his face in a succession of half assed movements, none of them resulting in anything proper. The pale blue t-shirt was a murky navy, damp in more places that one. He grabbed another vaguely clean smelling band tee and threw it over his shoulder. He could slip it on after he made the drink.

 _Damn_ , Eren thought to himself, it would take a while to make the usual drink, but he felt torn; he also wanted something to lift the man’s sour mood. It had almost become Eren’s responsibility to do as such, so the man would leave with less of a grouchy tone in his goodbyes than he had in his greetings. If Eren could do anything, he strived to do that at the least.

The kitchen was quickly turning into a mess after Christa cleaned up. Eren had dealt with a few orders, not to mention Armin spot job. As the state of the kitchen showed, the pair of them were hopelessly unorganised.

Eren slide around on his socks, collecting enough ingredients for a simple Café Meil. It was a drink with a single shot of espresso, steamed milk, cinnamon and honey. It should appeal to his sweet tooth, Eren considered, twirling the glass rod inside the cup. It steamed his vision, and the smell made his stomach rumble. It was sweet, and spicy, but offered the caffeine the old man needed this late. Just to be sure, Eren topped it off with another shot of espresso, then whisked himself back to the counter, honey pot in his hand.

The man’s eyes flickered up for a fraction of a second then went back to the screen. His features were illuminated behind the alien glow. Eren noticed how his short but elegant fingers tapped fluidly across the keyboard without his eyes ever leaving the screen; how the images on the screen reflected off his steel blue eyes; how his eyebrows came together when his fingertips hesitated at the keys. He noticed the scowl that quickly present itself on the man’s face when he caught Eren’s line of sight, reeling Eren in.

“Am I actually going to get that drink while it’s still warm?” the man asked, hovering his jittery hands over the keyboard, eying Eren sternly.

Taken aback, Eren stood flustered for a moment. His hands clicked both honey pot and coffee mug onto the marble counter, confused, he pushed towards the man the honey pot. Realizing his mistake, Eren’s green eyes widened and his lightly tanned skin flamed red. Switching the two again, he turned around and rewarded himself with a slap on the forehead for letting his composure slip.

“Sorry, Corporal,” Eren said, spooning out the honey. He twirled it into the hot liquid, watching as the thin strands of the golden liquid melted and sunk.

“I told you before, brat, it’s Levi,” the man snapped, his eyes narrowing. Eren took his time to stir the mixture then pushed it towards Levi with his fingertips.

“Right, Corporal,” Eren said, grinning.

“Listen here, brat, I left my army days behind. If you keep calling me that I’ll make you eat dirt faster than you can pull out another one of those shit eating grins.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Eren saluted, turning away and marching into the kitchen, just to piss the man off.

“I’m going to kill Hanji,” he heard Levi mutter as he brought the warm mug to his lips and slipped. Eren stopped in the doorway, watching the man’s expression soften slightly as the beverage trickled down his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.  For such a short man, Levi had a strong neck, running into the coarse muscles on his back. Or so Eren thought, for that man hardly ever took off that damned awful cravat from his neck.

Eren sighed, again. It was starting to concern him as to why his energy was being drained so quickly, but since nobody else noticed, save Armin and Mikasa who were always worried about him, he could push his stamina until he gets to pass out on the couch or bed, whichever one his body finds first; heck, at this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if he collapsed on the counter.

Another sigh, merging with a yawn; it was only ticking past half eight and his eyelids were starting to feel heavy. Despite his cheery attitude he put up for the customers, the fatigue was starting to sink in, visibly.

Eren splashed cold water on his face, and rubbed away his red eyes. He was on until midnight at the latest. Using an old, but clean, dishrag to dry his face, he rubbed the rough material on his skin, its fibres sanding away the surface layer of drowsiness. He slipped on the t-shirt that was still hung over his shoulder and returned to the shop, a mop in one hand, a bucket one third full with soapy water in the other. He tied the damp dishrag around his hair to keep the long strands away from his eyes. With most of the shop clear, he started by working around the window counter, wiping down the surface, pushing in the tall stools and mopping underneath. Puddles of muddy water collected where the snow had melted off the dirt in people’s shoes. It wasn’t long before he had to dump the water for a new batch.

* * *

 

Levi had finished the Café Meil and helped himself to a muffin and slice of apple pie Eren had on display. There was a small hipflask in the shape the commonly known legendary Titans sitting by his hand. Apparently, the Titans were a formless, humanoid creature said to have ruled the forests behind the row on shops Eren’s Coffee Shop was on. Notorious for eating humans alive and rampaging on the town until nearly all its population was wiped out.  Eren had only ever laughed at such an absurd tale, but it was just that which had inspired the name of the shop. Hannes, an old and deceased friend of Eren, had created the shop and left it to the hardworking young man just a couple years ago in inheritance. It was out of need of a job and obligation to the man who had helped him off the streets that Eren keenly kept the shop running.

As Eren passed the counter with a fresh bucket of soaped water, Levi hit a small latch on the nape of the Titan hipflask and flicked the lid open. He took a graceful shot of the alcohol then tucked it back inside his blazer pocket, where it clinked against his car keys. For a moment it felt as though Levi’s eyes on him. Dismissing the off feeling, Eren pushed the bucket out and continued to rigorously work around the shop.

The last of the customers dwindled away by the time Eren was done cleaning. He did the last round of the shop, collecting up the empty mugs and crumb-ridden plates, placing them in the dishwasher. His shirt was once again moulded to his frame, defined back muscles pressing against the thin material, and his hair hung around in damp clumps, and dark shadows casted over his eyes. There was nothing more inviting that sleep at this point, but Levi was still sitting at the counter.

As much as Eren enjoyed admiring the man, he could only count as the seconds ticked by, hoping with every fibre that something, anything, would get the man to leave, so he could close the shop.

It was hitting eleven.

The tick, tick, tick of the grandfather clock lulled Eren. He sat down on the stool beside the counter and rested his tired head on his arms, hiding his eyes away from the world. Soon, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i have so many ideas for this fic, but it's getting them in the right order and finding the time to write whilst studying for exams and hwk and you know the drill.  
> also i gotta develop their relationship beyond eren's admiration with only interactions across the counter, and knowing levi, that's kinda hard
> 
> will try better


	3. Hello Sleepwalkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi's POV. HIs night at the cafe, then visit to an old friend in hospital.

Levi was accustomed to spending his nights in the coffee shop, working on reports and whatever else his superiors had set him. He was used to the smell of coffee that would linger in his clothes after leaving, or the taste of cakes and confectionary, or perhaps the soft piano music that would play in the background every night, melting into the deeper consciousness of his mind; but never did he get used the green eyed brat who hurried around the shop in a frantic mess, keeping the place lively.

When he looked over, the young man had his head nuzzled in the crook of his crossed arms, the mop of brown hair frayed and pouring over the dirty dishrag he insisted on tying his hair back with. It was becoming the teen’s natural state lately with the sudden influx of customers sapping him of life. Soft wheezing, and laboured breaths interrupted Levi’s train of thought every few moments, the smudges on the boy’s tricep pulled away his gaze from the screen each time he happened to glance in his hindsight. Whether it was dirt or coffee he couldn’t tell, but he resisted the urge to trail his finger across the muscle and wipe it away. Every now and again, he jumped when Eren’s cough echoed throughout the empty shop. He knew that if he left already, the fatigued barrister would be able to lock up, but going back to the desolate apartment wasn’t inviting in any aspect. It was a nice place, luxurious and well fitted to his needs, but as the loneliness collected in every crevice, it just seemed so abandoned, so unhomely; he couldn’t bear the long nights there alone staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to awaken.

There were times when he would spend the night in the office, trudging through mounds of work so he could at least try to get an off day, but now with his daily habit at the coffee shop, he left the security of the offices early and in a spirit of edginess. Nevertheless, the shock of change in routine to his system left him a more serious insomniac, but he was working through it. Levi thought back to his nights crashed on the sofa, waking up aching in thirty different places. His eyes glanced over to Eren’s awkward position again. He was neither only standing, nor sitting, nor splayed over the counter; the mix of all looked plainly painful.

When he could take it no longer, irritated by his lack of concentration, Levi reached over and tugged the dishrag off the barrister’s head, ruffling the mess he called hair. The rag felt rough against his palm and smelled like cleaning fluid, the fibres unravelling at the edges tempting to be picked at. Using it, Levi wiped away the smear on Eren’s arm, then folded the rag and placed it beside his empty cup of coffee. The young man shifted in his sleep, opening his eyes slowly, squinting under the dim lights above that shone down on him. The boy looked dazed and let out another cough, racking his chest. Levi grimaced at the spray of phlegm launching onto the counter.

“Sorry,” Eren wheezed, thumping his chest several time. He wiped the counter down then went through the door at the back. Levi heard the sound of rushing water. Eren returned, his face looking slightly better, but the bags under his eyes were almost as bad as his own ones.

“Disgusted brat,” Levi scowled, shifting away from the tired teen. “Don’t get your revolting germs over me. I’ll have to burn my clothes if you keep coughing everywhere, and I actually like this jacket.”

“Right, right, old man,” Eren muttered, “I heard you the first fifty times you told me this week.”

“And if you would actually listen, then I wouldn’t have to tell you so often.” Levi shot back.

“My personal health should hardly concern a mere customer,” Eren retorted, folding his arms as though he had won the argument. Levi rolled his eyes, turning the laptop a smidge away and facing Eren.

“No, but it’s your filthy hands that make my coffee, so I would prefer it if they didn’t pass of some contagious disease. If I get sick, I’d sue you, you understand. Don’t get smart with me, boy.” Did that sound sharper than usual?

Nevertheless, Eren stiffened and stared, looking somewhat taken aback, like he’d taken a slap to the face. Narrowing his eyes in confusion and suspicion he briskly walked into the kitchen, shutting the door quietly behind him. Levi gazed after him, wondering if he’d accidently upset the kid more than usual. He’d never reacted to the off comment; most of the time Levi wondered if it went through that thick head of his, but he heard the soft thump of a fist hitting the kitchen counter. Sighing, Levi turned to his laptop again, and attempted to dismiss Eren from his mind to finish up the last report. The last thing he wanted to deal with was an emotional teenager, a sick one at that.

Regardless, as vague words flashed past the screen, Levi wondered what Eren was doing. There was little but silence coming from that kitchen. He couldn’t hear the usual whirls of machines or grumbles from the staff. It was a constant annoyance when working, but hearing it now would put his mind at the slightest of rest.

Eren emerged from the back, t-shirt sprinkled with droplets of water and fists clenched. A false grin was plastered on his face, stretching ear to ear, as though he could fool the older man into thinking everything was fine. It didn’t take a genius to know what red eyes, a gross snotty nose, and rattling chest meant. It didn’t matter how many time Eren tried to wash away the bloodshot eyes; heck, he was probably making it worse for himself. He noticed Eren’s forehead damp with a sheen of sweat, and his form swaying ever so slightly that not even Eren would notice. His cheeks were flushed more than usual, heat radiating off him.

Levi closed his laptop, slipping it inside its leather case. Eren rested against the counter, his eyelids half closed, and quietly watching Levi slide on the leather jacket, and trench coat over that. A thick muffler followed next with knitted gloves and a pair of black ear muffs. Levi noticed a small smile on Eren’s lips.

“I don’t care what you think,” Levi said, adjusted his scarf and ruffling his hair so it fell naturally around the earmuffs, concealing them. “It’s -10°c outside, and I will not step into that frozen hell without wearing appropriate armour.” Why he felt the need to justify himself to the kid, he didn’t know, but he had to admit, compared to what other customers had been wearing perhaps he was going to the extremes. Well, it was better than catching whatever awful disease Eren had. After all, he left the damn door open for the whole day, he might as well invite the blizzard outside for tea and cupcakes.

“I’ll be taking my leave, so get your disgusting illness-ridden ass to bed.” Levi said, pushing his stool under the counter. He left a warm hand print of his glove on the cool metal.

“I would have had to close in fifteen minutes anyway,” Eren sighed, placing the last dirty mug and plate inside the dishwasher, setting it on its final spin for the day. It shuddered to life. “Well, it’s nice to see someone exploit our services as much as possible,” Eren grinned weakly, “Makes me feel loved.”

“You’ve got your blonde ass boyfriend for that,” Levi snorted, and headed for the door. He didn’t wait for Eren’s flustered denial and swiftly exited the coffee shop, the bell ringing for the final time that night.

All things considered, he left with a slightly uplifted mood to that which he had walking in with, slightly as in dealing with sick people made him want to bathe in acid, but the atmosphere in the coffee shop at night was peaceful, the music lulling, and he got a lot of work done. Maybe it was the satisfactory feeling that made him feel a content, after all, he now has an entire weekend at his disposal and possibly an extra day or two if he gets these reports emailed off before tomorrow midday.

Down the street, a new Jaguar XK blinked its yellow eyes twice. Levi pocketed the keys and slipped into the car noiselessly, similarly driving out the tiny car park (down the street from the coffee shop). The fact that it was next to a graveyard irked him, and the groans from the forest behind didn’t help. He rode past the ticket machine, cashing the slip of paper allowing his stay. The machine was old as the trees that surrounded the area, but it never failed to charge him the £5.50 per visit. That said, it was an incredibly cheap price considering the number of hours he left his car parked there.

The radiator turned on full blast inside the car, blowing hot air in every direction. Quickly, the frost on the windows thawed off, as did his layer of insulation. The ‘shotgun’ seat, as American’s would call it, was soon over flowing with knitted items. They all looked ridiculous on him, if he was honest, but he couldn’t just ignore the efforts of Petra, his co-worker, to her face. It wasn’t that they weren’t effective, but rather pastel colours didn’t work to well on his dark exterior. Maybe he could get Petra some knew strings, something if a more appropriate colour.

Levi sighed. His car came to a halt, sliding on the icy tarmac, a few centimetres behind a minivan in front of him. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, watching for the red light to fade out, for the green to signal his leave. Outside, snow fell carelessly under an endless sky, illuminated by the stale yellow street lamps placed periodically on the kerb. There were no stars (how long had it been since he’d seen the stars?). The town wasn’t the most reliant on electricity, but the faint, if that, light pollution was like a fog refusing to diffuse. Yet even on the clearest nights he had difficulty distinguishing between the metal monstrosities that roamed the skies to the masses of elements burning away a hundred thousand light years ago.

In the corner of his eye, the tail light of the minivan flickered and dimmed to a deep maroon. The Jag’s wheels’ skimmed the ice, but it pulled away with Levi driving sensibly at snail speed. His foot itched to press the accelerator instead of hovering over the brake pedal, and fingers at the handbrake. It was already dangerous without chaining his wheels; sure he could handle driving in hard conditions but after his near-crash experience last week his confidence was shaken. The minivan was still driving a centimetre an hour in front, and he cringed when it skidded around a corner. Slowing down another 5 mph, Levi scraped past a fence, narrowly missing the signpost and into the local Tesco Extra, which had invaded their town with its string of Tesco Express’ following noisily behind. The construction work had given him a headache for weeks. It was teeth-grindingly annoying.

Having rummaged through his mass of winter wear, Levi clutched his wallet close to his chest and sprinted for the automatic doors, the light shining through like a gateway to heaven. Now he knew he really needed some sleep.

The doors flew apart with a soft gust of wind, a welcoming warmth wrapped around him, quickly enveloping him. It was bright in contrast to the dark streets, and smelled urine-free. Picking up a basket, Levi hung it on his antecubital, the plastic handle smearing water from the previous user onto the jacket he actually liked. Irritation rolled off him in waves.

“Erwin better be happy for those goddammed grapes,” he muttered under his breath.

In the end, Levi had three bags full of necessities for his apartment rather than gifts for Erwin, but then again, that old geezer had been in hospital for over a month, he could only act like guest for so long.

The run back to the car was awkward and lopsided. Levi strained to open the back door with his boot and then flung the bags onto the seat. Some of the food and toiletries spilled out but it wasn’t serious. Placing the bag of grapes at the front, he took to the wheel, seat belted and escaped out back out onto the street, fighting against the black ice for his life.

* * *

 

The hospital was lively, to say the least. There were queues of visitors in the waiting area, bags and coats around them in wet puddles, a health hazard in themselves. Levi strode in swiftly through the sliding doors. Behind him, the third ambulance since he parked his Jaguar sped past, sirens blaring. Horns of angry and tired drivers sung out of tune with each other in the background, a sweet melody to which Levi could murder the entirety of the town to. The plastic bag was wrapped tightly in his clenched fist.

The waiting area cleared a pathway to the desk as Levi strode down, maintaining eye contact with everyone who dared. People fought on the cold glare Levi laid down, and lost. Their wills shrivelling inside their weak bodies, they cowered to the seats. Levi’s boots’ buckles clicked in the silence that fell.

“Always one for the dramatic entrance!” someone called out from the desk. Levi made his way to the voice, met quickly with a grin from a blonde. She looked at him eagerly.

“Nanaba,” Levi stated, “I’ll be going up, tell Erwin in case he’s sleeping.”

“If he’s sleeping there’s not much I can do,” she retorted, tapping at her keyboard. His late night visits were becoming routine and no one questioned this, but Nanaba was the only person who still bothered to mark in his visits. “Alright, how long will you be staying?”

“Hour, maybe.”

“Well, I’m on night duty until 5, and the person after me isn’t so relaxed about your off schedule visits, so you better scram before then.”

“Right, right. Understood.”

“I’m serious. I don’t want to find you asleep across his bed again.” Stern.

“I was… tired…” Levi trailed off. His heart beat that tiny bit faster when thinking back to that night.

“And your shirt was unbuttoned because you were hot, and your hair was ruffled because of the wind?” Nanaba sighed, “I don’t care about what you’re doing but…” She leaned in, whispering through partly closed lips. “Don’t make it so obvious. Also he’s recovering. I don’t want to deal with him getting any illnesses from outside or being mentally upset.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Levi spun on his boots to go when Nanaba suddenly started rummaging through her stack of unorderly papers, pulling out a slightly rumpled envelope.

“Oh, and give this to him if he’s awake. It was urgent, but seems to have gotten lost under all this paperwork.”

“Right,” Levi took the envelope between his fingers and slid it into the inner pocket of his trench coat. His worries for his old army friend doubled when he saw the insignia stamped messily on the letter. It wasn’t every day that you get a letter from the higher ups, but in Erwin’s condition, was it so surprising? He was sure Erwin knew it was coming, but the idea of presenting Erwin’s fate to him through a shitty piece of paper infuriated Levi. Just pawns in their game, hardly battering an eyelid for every loss. He let out a breath and soother his coat. Nanaba bid him goodbye at last, and chased him up the stairs before tending to the groaning beings that hovered like ghosts in limbo.

The hospital got dimmer as he went up. The more critical patients are left closer to the ground, whilst long term patients, as Levi thought it to be, were hidden away at the top in the mazes of corridors. True it was late, but surely there were supposed to be more nurses around that thi-

“Levi!” The voice echoed through the hallways horrifyingly.

Eyes widening a fraction of a millimetre, Levi sped up and promptly turned into Erwin’s room. When he went to close the door, a shoe slipped between the frame, stopping Levi from doing so. He grumbled and let the person in.

“Don’t ignore me like that Levi,” The woman said, buttoning up her white coat, a clipart rammed in the crook of her arm.

“Don’t chase people around the hospital in the middle of the night, Hanji,” he muttered, taking his seat next to Erwin. The plastic chair creaked under the sudden weight change, its legs splaying to accommodate. Unwrapping himself, Levi unbuttoned his trench coat, unzipped his leather jacket and pushed them over the back of the chair with his arms, effectively cushioning the chair’s frame. Though the dirt on the chair concerned him.

“Don’t worry,” Hanji interrupted. “I had a brand new one placed in here for you. Plus you’re really the only one who visits apart from Nile or Marie.”

“That good,” Levi said, setting the grapes down on the small table. The rustling of the bags woke the sleeping man.

Levi watched Erwin struggle to get out of the covers and against the headboard with his injury, but couldn’t bring himself to help; not after how violently Erwin had reacted the last time _. Learn to do everything himself?_ Levi sighed.

“I can manage,” Erwin said, catching Levi’s gaze; Levi looked away. It wasn’t as though he’d never seen an injury like Erwin’s before, hell, he’d even treated some, but the stump that remained of his best friend’s right arm still looked unnatural. It was still in bandages but the scarred tissue beneath occasionally peaked when Erwin flexed. Its darker colour contrasted to Erwin’s pale flesh. Levi couldn’t take his eyes away.

“Still can’t take it in?” Erwin laughed softly, running his fingers over the stump. Levi grimaced. “Don’t worry yourself, Levi, it doesn’t hurt, anymore, that much.”

“That doesn’t make it alright,” Levi snapped.

“I know, Levi, I didn’t say it was alright. It just doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Physically.”

Erwin chuckled heartily. “You know me too well, hun.”

Levi stiffened at the name, and cast his eyes away. Guilt from the night before trickled back in. Erwin apologized before Levi could.

“Don’t,” Levi mumbled. Shortly brightening up, he gestured to the bag. “Look, I brought grapes.”

“Again,” Hanji quipped, scribbling away at her clipboard. Levi shot her a sharp look.

“No, no, I’m glad.” Erwin swooped in for a save. “Though,” he looked over to another 3 bags sitting beside the sink, “I still haven’t gotten through those yet.”

“You shitty bastard,” Levi sigh, snapping off a branch of grapes, popping several into his mouth.

The green eyed boy forgotten, the letter that had tweezed his nerves forgotten, the fact that he’d have to go home to an empty apartment forgotten, Levi relaxed into the easy presence of his old friend, and let down his armoured guard. It was going to be long night, but well spent. Levi’s lips twitched ever so slightly into a smile at Erwin’s laugh. It was good to see his friend in high spirits. It felt good to know he was healing, because that’s all he needed right then, at that moment.

That was until Levi mentioned Afghanistan, and Erwin stopped breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank for reading, much appreciation from trying young writer.


End file.
